


On Matters Of Importance

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Falling In Love, First Time, Honeyfoot is a Cock Blocker, Kissing, M is a Really Strong Rating TBH, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Seductive!Segundus, Vinculus is a Wing Man, hurt comfort, lots of pining, soft looks, vague descriptions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: John Segundus realizes he's in love with John Childermass, and endeavors to try and seduce him, with the help of a hopelessly silly book of advice for young ladies looking for a husband.
Relationships: John Childermass/John Segundus
Comments: 21
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks rubyofkukundu for the idea for the book's name!
> 
> Thank you Katherine1753, because it was your clumsily seductive Segundus from Pure of Virtue, True of Heart that inspired this fic to a large degree <3
> 
> Thank you dear emilycare for the editing you just finished minutes ago. Your help is so so vital. <3

John Segundus was in love with John Childermass.

This fact hadn’t become clear to him immediately. In fact it had taken over a decade to arrive at this conclusion. A decade during which Childermass did and said some things that may have played a role in Segundus being late to the realization that he was in love with the man.

For one, he was frightfully difficult to remember. Apparently, Childermass had been in Mr. Norrell’s library at Hurtfew Abbey when Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot had gone to ask Norrell about practical magic. Unfortunately, Segundus could not recall this encounter with Childermass in the slightest. 

The second time they’d met, it had been at York Cathedral, and again, though Segundus had a distinct memory of a mysterious man in a ragged black coat, looking at him quizzically through the falling snow with queer, dark eyes, he hadn’t been able to keep the man’s face in his mind. Memories of Childermass seemed to slip away from him, like shadows chased away by the flare of a candle’s flame. 

The third time they’d met, Childermass had warned Segundus that he’d best shut down his school before Norrell found out about it. Yes, he’d looked quite impressive atop his great dark steed, with his wild dark hair and his flashing dark eyes. But at the time, Segundus had been far too upset over the prospect of giving up his dream of a school for magicians to take much notice. Not that Childermass noticed him either. The man’s face was a closed book. He simply told Segundus and Honeyfoot that they must not continue with their plans to open a school, nodded politely and had ridden off. The whole affair had taken less than five minutes’ time, and Segundus had felt so downtrodden afterwards, he hadn’t had the presence of mind to notice how Childermass made him feel inside. 

And then the man had shown up at the door of Starecross Hall, his face bloodied and a small box clutched in his hand, and he’d told Segundus to “do the magic!” And Segundus had done it, and he’d broken poor Lady Pole’s enchantment! He, John Segundus had done real magic! Important magic! It was from that very day that he truly began to think of himself as a real practical magician. 

After the disappearance of Strange and Norrell into the dark magic that engulfed Hurtfew Abbey, John Childermass did not really have any place to go. His master was gone, and now he was in sole possession of the Raven King’s book. A book that was written on the skin of an atrocious old man in filthy rags, but a book nonetheless. And so John Childermass and Vinculus went here and there to try and untangle the meaning of the words written on Vinculus’ skin, and quite often over the past year, they stopped by Starecross Hall for a visit. Vinculus would eat until his small belly grew fat and round and he’d flirt (leer at) the scullery maids and the cook, while Childermass perused books in the library and talked about practical magic with Segundus. 

It was through these visits, usually lasting a few days every few weeks, that Segundus grew to know Childermass better. He stopped being afraid of the man’s dour expression and black clothing, and started to see the man beneath these intimidating outer layers. 

And that’s when he knew that he was in very deep trouble. 

The first time he’d been made aware of his feelings had been one day in late autumn in the library at Starecross Hall. 

One afternoon, when he was supposed to be reading a book on spells to accomplish common household chores, Mr. Segundus realized that he had been staring blankly at the same page for perhaps a quarter of an hour. And what was he doing instead of reading? Why he had been thinking about Mr. Childermass’ eyes. How they were a dark brown that bordered on black, and how they were almond shaped and surrounded by the most pleasing network of wrinkles that only appeared when he smiled, which was quite possibly once a month or less. His eyes flashed when he was displeased and they shone when he was happy. Come to think of it, eye-shining was a far more common occurrence than actual mouth-smiling. Childermass’ smiles were small, rare things.

Segudus had shaken his head and admonished himself for being so lackadaisical, and had tried to commit himself to reading again, only to drift off mere moments later into a series of thoughts about the quality and colour of Childermass’ long, dark hair. How it looked so lank and ragged, but, on the very few occasions Segundus had gotten close enough to smell it, how it had smelled like soap and sage and the wind off the moors. He thought of how it might be soft to the touch, and on what pretense he could find to test this theory.

Another head shake and another redirect later and it was the shape and size of Childermass hands that took up space in his mind and distracted him from reading yet again. How they were broad yet well formed. His fingers thick and strong looking, covered in calluses and stained with ink. 

Mr. Segundus was perplexed. Why was he so continually caught up in thoughts of Mr. Childermass’ face and hair and hands? Were the man’s personal features so very unusual as to be worthy of intense consideration? He was not a particularly ugly person, nor was he (very) fearsome to look at. Nor did he seem to possess any extremely distinguishing features. Childermass did not have sparkling green eyes like Mr. Levy. Nor did he have rosy red cheeks like Mrs. Lennox. He did not have a warm, friendly smile like Mr. Honeyfoot, nor flawless pale skin like Lady Pole. He was perhaps, if anything, somewhat unremarkable. And yet Mr. Segundus’ mind returned again and again to Childermass’ appearance. 

The next day, when Childermass came down to a small breakfast of bread and preserves and coffee, Segundus found that looking upon Mr. Childermass’ features in person was even more difficult to stop doing than it was to stop imagining them inside the privacy of his mind. He kept casting furtive glances at those hands, and those eyes and that hair, and… and those lips. For some reason, Mr. Segundus found Childermass’ mouth intensely interesting. The way his lips caressed the brim of his coffee cup, or how his teeth sank into a soft slice of bread. It made Segundus’ chest warm and his cheeks even warmer than his chest. 

_ Well this is interesting _ , he thought to himself.  _ I appear to have fallen in love with Mr. Childermass _ . 

Segundus had never really been in love before. He’d had the occasional crush here and there, but he was frightfully shy, and very uneducated in the ways of romance. And besides, he’d only ever developed these crushes on other men, and well, that simply wasn’t a thing that was done. Add to this the fact that the boys he’d fancied in his youth, and the few men he’d taken a shine to since becoming a grown man himself, could not hold a candle to the intriguing and highly appealing presence of John Childermass, and well… Segundus was fairly certain that he’d never ever felt this way before.

Because it was a rare thing for men to desire other men, he assumed that Childermass himself must desire women. Like Segundus, he’d never married, but that could just mean that he valued his freedom. And since Childermass never spoke of any romantic feelings, nor any feelings at all that did not directly pertain to the study of or execution of magic, it was very difficult for Mr. Segundus to tell if perhaps Childermass might one day possibly return his feelings.

And since he could not discover if Childermass cared for him in the same way, and because he had no idea how to go about letting Mr. Childermass know of his own feelings, he resolved to ignore them and simply go about life the way he had been up until now. 

This unfortunately did not work out very well for Mr. Segundus. His thoughts and feelings about and for Childermass did not go away simply because he willed them to. In fact, they only grew stronger and more pervasive. He realized, after a particularly good conversation they’d had together on the details and dangers of fairy magic in the library several weeks prior, that it was not just Childermass’ looks that fueled these soft, shivery, burning feelings inside Segundus. 

Childermass was also very smart. And he had a sly sense of humor. More than once he had made Mr. Segundus throw his head back and bark with laughter, only to blush furiously with embarrassment once he had done so, for this was not very gentlemanly behavior. 

Childermass was also very kind, in his own way. Yes, he was cynical, and brooding, and he had a secret smirk that made Mr. Segundus think that the man was sharing a private joke with himself about the things he saw around him. But also, he never passed by Julia, the Starecroos calico cat without bending to stroke her behind the ears. And when he spoke to the students, he was patient and encouraging. 

All of these observations, about Childermass’ eyes and hair and hands and his intelligence and his humor and his kindness. Well, they all combined to make Segundus fall deeper and deeper in love with him, until he was at a complete loss for what to do about it. 

He decided, in a flash of bravery, that he’d at the very least need to find some way of divining whether or not Childermass could possibly ever love him back. And so he did the only thing he could think of doing. He went to talk to Vinculus. 

Viculus was the sort of person who was difficult to talk to if you wanted to discuss anything practical, but very useful to talk to if you wanted to discuss the wild, the confusing or the salacious. He seemed to thrive on jokes and misdirections, but also, he was very difficult to shock. According to Childermass, Vinculus had had five wives! And all at the same time as well. This seemed to bode well for his opinion on matters of the heart. What’s more, Vinculus knew Mr. Childermass better than anyone else in the world at this point (aside from Mr. Norrell, who was not around to speak to), and so Segundus screwed up his courage and went in search of him. 

He found the raggedy man, halfway to inebriation, clutching a bottle of beer and sitting in a pile of hay in the stables. Segundus was not exactly fond of Vinculus. They were very opposite sorts of men after all, but he was desperate for information on Childermass, and so he decided to take a calculated risk. 

“Hello Mr. Vinculus, how are you today?” he asked, in as cheerful and friendly a fashion as he could manage.

Vinculus eyed him suspiciously and clutched his bottle closer to his chest, clearly nervous that Segundus meant to take it away. But he nodded in what passed for a polite greeting.

“I was wondering,” Segundus began. He had planned out carefully what he wished to ask, but it would take some precision and finesse. “I notice that Mr. Childermass has no wife. And that his clothes are often in need of mending, and that his boots are patched, and probably leak in winter. I thought perhaps, now that Mr. Norrell is gone, and he is free to find his own way in the world, if he might like to marry?” It was a rather direct approach, but he really did not relish the thought of spending too much time in Vinculus’ company, and felt it best to get right to the point (in a roundabout way). 

“S’pose,” said Vinculus. “Does his own mendin and cookin he does,” 

Segundus blinked, piecing together the man’s mumbled words for a moment. “Oh! He does his own mending,  _ and _ cooking? How very useful!” He silently filed this new fact about Childermass away in the part of his brain that was rapidly collecting interesting facts about Childermass, and tried again. “But, doesn’t he get lonely? I was thinking, Mr. Honeyfoot has an unmarried daughter, and there are plenty of eligible ladies in Starecross and in York for him to court. Is it not time for him to settle down?” 

It actually pained Segundus to bring up this subject and to push for Childermass to find a wife and settle down, for it was the very last thing he wanted to happen, but it was the only truly safe way he could think of to ferret out the truth about the man’s romantic leanings. 

Vinculus peered at him from under the brim of his battered hat and chewed on his mustaches for a moment before responding. “Don’t think he has a mind for marriage,” he said at last. Segundus’ heart swelled with relief upon hearing Vinculus’ words, but he pressed on. 

“Does he not enjoy the company of women?” he asked. 

“Oh certainly. He has a few lady friends here and there,” the rumpled man paused for a moment. “But it’s the gents he favors.”

Segundus swallowed thickly and he felt an epic blush make its way across his cheeks. “Oh my,” he said. “The gents? Really?”

“Aye,” replied Vinculus, “Soft little ones. Like yourself.” 

Mr. Segundus thought perhaps that he might faint. “Like myself…” he repeated numbly, his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Aye. Pretty lads with soft hair. Not my cup o tea, but I sees him lookin at em when we go into town,” Viculus replied. “Do you think I might get another bottle of beer from ye Mr. Segundus sir? The cook’s chased me out of the pantry again, and I’m frightfully thirsty…” he let the request linger in the air between them.

Segundus, who had barely heard him, because his mind was full of images of Childermass and what Vinculus’ words might mean, snapped to awareness a few seconds late. “Oh! Yes, certainly Mr. Vinculus. I shall bring you all the beer you require!” He had a sudden strong urge to reward Vinculus for telling him such amazingly good news, as if it was Vinculus himself that had made Childermass fancy other men, rather than simply relaying the message to him. “I’ll be back shortly,”

He rushed off to the pantry, his heart in his throat and his cheeks aflame to go and fetch the raggedy man three more bottles of beer. He deposited them in front of a very happy Vinculus and went immediately to the library to do some research. 

He was frightfully uneducated in the ways of romantic love, and he needed to learn about the art of seduction. There was only one book in Starecross Library that he knew of that tackled the subject, and it was a very proper volume of advice for young ladies on how to make themselves appealing to future husbands. The book was titled, rather mysteriously as  _ Instructions to the Young Gentlewoman On Matters Of Importance _ , and at first, Segundus had assumed it was to do with cooking and mending, (books for young ladies were always disappointingly free from any magical instruction), but upon opening it, out of curiosity, several months ago, had discovered that it pertained to the arts of courtship. 

He took the book and sat in his favorite chair by the fire in the library to see what he could learn. It was late afternoon. The classes were done for the day and dinner had not yet been served, and so he had some time to do research. What he read both surprised and concerned him…

  
  


_______________________________________________

_ In order for a proper young lady to draw the romantic attentions of a future husband, she must first make it very clear, in the most subtle and delicate manner possible that she is available to be courted. This is easily done by placing herself near the object of her affections and delivering many soft and attentive looks in his direction. She must appear as if everything he says is the height of interest to her and must let him speak to his heart's content without interrupting to tell him her opinion. _

Mr. Segundus frowned. He liked the idea of the soft looks, but the sitting and patiently not speaking would not work at all where Mr. Childermass was concerned. Childermass was an excellent conversationalist, and expected those who spoke with him (be they ladies or gentlemen) to be active participants in the exchange. He’d had no idea courtship advice for young ladies was so stilted and dull. He flipped to the next page.

_ Always look your best when you are around young gentlemen at social events. Make certain that your hair is well brushed and pinned in a pleasing style. Make certain that your clothes are clean and well ordered and that your face is recently washed and cheeks pinked by pinches. _

Segundus looked critically down at his own clean but well worn waistcoat and breeches. He sighed. It was not advisable to spend any of his hard earned money on new clothing, but perhaps he could see if Mrs. Lennox could help him mend the ones he owned so that he would look his very best the next time he happened to spend time alone with Childermass.

_ If you can, endeavor to struggle with some physical task around a gentleman so that he may offer to assist you. This will bring out his natural tendency to be helpful and protective and will also bring him closer to you physically so that he may smell your perfume and admire the quality of your skin, hair and eyes. _

Now  _ this _ sounded promising. Segundus lost himself in a small fantasy of Childermass rushing to his aid when he saw Segundus struggling to lift a heavy book onto the top shelf of the library. Childermass was a few inches taller than Segundus, and appeared to have stronger arms. At least that is what Segundus’ careful glances revealed when he happened to see Childermass in his shirtsleeves. 

Well, it wasn’t much, but Segundus now had a plan. He went to Mrs. Lennox first, and she happily obliged him by having one of her maids fix up his waistcoat, breeches and jacket. In fact, probably due to the fact that she was very fond of Segundus and very focused on him finding himself a wife, she went a bit far with her instructions for the mending, and ordered him something of a new waistcoat. It was made of new green cotton with shiny new tortoise shell buttons. She also gifted him a very nice pair of second hand breeches, saying that they’d belonged to her nephew who had become portly after he’d married and no longer fit into them. They were of a very nice fawn color, with finely hemmed cuffs. The maid mended the holes in his jacket, and relined the collar and added a row of those lovely buttons as well. 

After all was said and done, Mr. Segundus ended up with new clothes after all. He blushed and thanked Mrs. Lennox and the maid, Sally, who’d always smiled kindly at him, quite profusely. 

Now, all that was left to do was to get himself alone in a room with Childermass. This was not particularly difficult as Childermass often liked to retire to the library in the evenings after dinner, and read. Oftentimes Segundus would join him, and that was where their most interesting conversations took place. 

With his heart pounding, his hair freshly brushed and his cheeks freshly pinched (a painful and probably unnecessary practice as he blushed so freely to begin with) Mr. Segundus stepped into the library. Childermass was indeed there, standing by a shelf, his head bent over a volume he held open in his expressive hands. Segundus swallowed down his nervousness. It was now or never!

“Good evening Mr. Childermass,” he said, proud of how steady his voice sounded. 

Childermass looked up and a small, rare smile teased the corners of his mouth when he saw Segundus. “Hello Mr. Segundus. Good evening.” 

My how his voice rumbled when he spoke. So low and warm. Segundus struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. He had selected the biggest, heaviest book in the library and had placed it carefully on a table nearby so that he could pick it up and struggle to lift it in front of Childermass. He stepped over to the book and picked it up, his wrists already straining with the effort to lift it, and walked over to an empty space on a higher shelf he had made certain existed for the very purpose of trying to place the book into it. 

“This is interesting,” he said, feigning curiosity. “I wonder who took out Wallace’s Complete Catalogue of England’s Wildlife and left it on the table. I shall have to put it back where it belongs.”

He then tried his best to lift the incredibly large and heavy volume in order to foist it onto the shelf above his head. He did not quite gauge the weight or the angle correctly, and the book slipped from his trembling fingers and struck him in the chest, knocking him to the floor. 

“Mr. Segundus!” he heard Childermass’ voice, full of concern as the other man rushed over and looked down at Segundus, who was sprawled on the floor on his back, the very large book sitting in the middle of his chest. “Are you alright sir?” Childermass asked, bending to lift the book off of Segundus and placing it on the table before offering his hand to help Segundus up. 

Segundus gratefully clasped his hand, noting how warm and strong it felt and how small and pale his own hand looked by comparison as he scrambled awkwardly to his feet. In the process of being knocked over, he had gotten his clothing all disarrayed, and he spent a frantic moment smoothing down his almost-new waistcoat and running his fingers through his hair and dusting himself off. Childermass watched him with mirth dancing in his dark eyes. 

Mr. Segundus blushed. 

“I’m ever so sorry,” he said. “I seem to have overestimated my strength. Thank you sir, for your assistance.”

“Shall I put the book on the shelf for you?” Childermass asked, and Segundus nodded. This interaction was not going off as romantically as he’d planned, but the book needed to be put away in any case. 

Childermass, hoisted the book onto the space on the high shelf with a small grunt of effort, then dusted off his hands. “How is your evening going Mr. Segundus?” He asked, and then peered at Segundus with narrowed eyes. “Are you feeling quite well sir? You look more flushed than usual.”

_ The cheek pinching, of course.  _ Unfortunately, Childermass did not at all seem to notice or remark upon Segundus’ new clothing. Segundus frowned.

“No, no, I am well. It is only the exertion of trying to lift that monstrous book.” Childermass was looking at him warmly, his eyes doing their eye-shine smile, and for a moment, Segundus could not remember how to breath properly. He shook himself out of his love struck stupor before it became too noticeable. “My evening is going well. Dinner was quite good, as I am fond of lamb.” He paused then, unsure of what to say next. 

“Have you perchance read that book on magic as it relates to household chores Mr. Segundus?” asked Childermass, and this afforded Mr. Segundus the opportunity to talk about something he both loved and enjoyed discussing. A very pleasant half an hour was then spent talking about household magic and it’s possible applications in upkeeping Starecross’ many rooms. 

Segundus remembered at some point that he was supposed to be giving Childermass soft, welcoming looks, and so he made his eyelids drop as if he were sleepy, and looked at Childermass from under his lashes. He tried to make his eyes unfocused and dreamy looking. The results were not what he’d hoped.

“You should go to bed sir,” Childermass remarked. “You seem as if you can barely keep your eyes open.”

Segundus immediately abandoned his efforts to deliver soft looks and opened his eyes wide. “Oh no sir! I assure you I am quite awake!” 

Childermass looked critically at Segundus and placed a hand on his shoulder, and Segundus felt his knees threaten to buckle from the touch. “You are certain sir? You are flushed and now your eyes are drooping. I would hate it if you were to catch a chill in order to continue our conversation.” 

At this point, Segundus was mortified that his attempts to appear seductive had backfired so atrociously. He nodded, admitting defeat. “I think I am a bit tired after all,” he said. “I shall read in my room for a while before I go to sleep. Thank you Mr. Childermass for your help this evening, and for the lovely conversation.”

Childermass nodded, and Segundus took his leave, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment. He was clearly no good at seduction. 


	2. Chapter 2

He hurried to his rooms, resolving to study as much as he could about the arts of courtship so that he could try again to seduce Childermass. And if his earnest attempts had no effect? Well then, it was simply a thing that was not meant to be. Segundus knew that winning Childermass’ romantic affections was an endeavor with no real chance of success, but he was so utterly smitten with the man at this point, that he had no other recourse than to try. 

It helped a great deal to be aware of the fact that Childermass also appeared to fancy men, and that furthermore (thanks be to Vinculus’ keen eye!) he appeared to fancy men who were similar in description to Segundus himself! This was heartening and it provided Mr. Segundus with a glimmer of hope. 

He undressed quickly, donning his nightdress and climbing into bed to read more of  _ Instructions to the Young Gentlewoman On Matters Of Importance. _ The advice was not all applicable to Segundus’ situation, and some of it made him swear that he’d have a stern talk with the chaperones of Starecross’ female students so that those lovely young ladies never had to be told such stuffy nonsense, but it was all he had to go by. Without asking someone for help that is. And the only help he would be able to ask for was with advice on how to court a lady. And Childermass… well he was no lady. 

_ A young gentlewoman must cultivate an air of mystery about her in order to attract a beau, _ he read. Interesting.  _ She should never tell the young man she fancies too much about her thoughts and feelings, for it is much more enticing to make him guess the contents of her heart. _

This made more sense than some of the other advice he’d read so far. Both men and women did seem to enjoy unraveling a mystery, and Childermass in particular was drawn to things mysterious and otherworldly, such as fairy magic, deciphering the Kings Book and so forth. 

Segundus however, was not particularly mysterious. He was earnest and forthright and every emotion he had threatened to parade itself across his face. He looked to the book for advice on how to remedy this situation. 

_ In order to become more mysterious, a young gentlelady should never tell the gentleman she has her heart set on where she is going, who she is going there with, or why. If he asks her, ‘pray tell miss, where is it that you are going this Saturday?’ for example, she should reply simply ‘oh, out with some friends’, and leave it at that. No need to delve into the details of her plans to head into town to purchase a new bonnet with her sister and aunt. No need to tell him that she is simply headed to market for a basket of eggs. Let his mind come up with all sorts of imaginings of the mysterious and exciting things she might be doing...and who with. _

Segundus was fascinated. He’d always thought it a courtesy to explain every detail of his thoughts and feelings to anyone who asked. He had never before seen this as any impediment to romance. 

_ Furthermore, _ stated the author of the book,  _ she should endeavor to make herself less available. Being absent from him for a few days or a week will only entice him to pay more attention to her once he chances to see her again. _

This would be very difficult for Mr. Segundus to accomplish. The thought of staying away from Childermass for any length of time, when the man so rarely came to Starecross as it was, felt like torture. Like giving up a morsel of food when one is frightfully hungry. 

_ If the situation does not allow the young gentlewoman to absent herself for an extended period of time, a single afternoon or evening spent apart will do the trick, _ advised the author, and Segundus breathed a sigh of relief. Childermass had just shown up at Starecross two days ago and he usually stayed for at least four or five days, sometimes as long as a fortnight before heading off again. Segundus could afford to skip one evening of talking about magic in the library if it made him seem more mysterious. And considering the fact that he’d soundly humiliated himself during his last attempt at seduction, a break was actually quite a welcome thing for him to contemplate. 

He resolved to be vague about his plans and feelings during the day today and to stay away from the library after supper and see if that worked. 

He slept well that night, knowing that he had a better plan in place for how to win Childermass’ heart. 

The next morning, when he came down to dinner, Childermass was indeed there, with Vinculus and Mr. Honeyfoot in tow. Honeyfoot finished his ham and bread and went off to look at his lesson plans for the day. Vinculus dozed in a corner, a once full plate of food standing empty in front of him as he snored gently from under his hat. 

“And what are you up to today Mr. Segundus?” Childermass asked him, fixing Segundus with his dark gaze.

“Oh, this and that,” Segundus replied coolly, looking at his hands and straightening his teacup on its saucer. 

“And this evening?” Childermass asked. “I was hoping we could continue our discussion on household magic. It was cut short last night because you were not feeling well. I hope that your health has improved?” 

Segundus felt himself getting warm under his shirt from the direct attention he was receiving, but he kept his voice aloof. “I’m afraid I have other plans this evening,” he said, striving to sound mysterious, not meeting Childermass’ gaze. 

“Oh,” Childermass replied. “Well then, I shan’t expect you,” and with that, he stood up and ambled out of the room, his boots making a hollow sound against the floorboards as he walked away. 

Segundus blinked. One moment, Childermass was there, and the next he was gone. Was this supposed to have happened? He was certain that the author of  _ Instructions to the Young Gentlewoman On Matters Of Importance _ had been quite explicit in stating that he must appear otherwise engaged, not too available. Childermass however, far from seeming intrigued or attentive, had simply walked off. 

Well, there was little to do for it now. He’d just have to avoid the other man for the remainder of the day. If a little mystery didn’t work to draw Childermass in, then perhaps a double dose of mystery would do the trick? He went off to teach his first class of the day, feeling nervous but determined to follow the books’ instructions to the letter. 

Three classes later, he saw Childermass stride by the door to the classroom where he’d been teaching the students spells of illumination. The boys and girls were excitedly making balls of light appear in the palms of their hands and jumping up and down with excitement, and Segundus almost missed seeing Childermass. He had walked by in the hallway, and had stopped briefly to peer in at Segundus’ class. It was a thing he usually did from time to time. Leaning on the door frame and watching the class for a few moments. But today, he simply walked past without stopping. Segundus frowned. 

At lunch time, when everyone gathered in the large dining hall to eat their stew, Childermass sat a few chairs down from Segundus and did not engage him in conversation like usual. Segundus was extremely disappointed. He knew that he was supposed to be acting in an aloof and mysterious manner, but now, he seemed to have insulted Childermass, and now the man was actively avoiding  _ him _ instead of the other way around! Segundus was thoroughly ruffled. Perhaps he had gone about being mysterious the wrong way? He’d done exactly what the book had asked, and yet, there was Childermass, sitting farther away than he’d ever sat before, staring resolutely down at his plate. Usually, Childermass would sit either next to Segundus or across from him so that they could spend the majority of the meal talking about magic. Segundus missed him already.

By the time evening rolled around, Segundus could bear it no longer, and headed to the library. He was pleased to see Childermass there, reading a book as usual. The man looked up when Segundus entered and his eyebrows climbed up his brow in surprise. “Mr. Segundus,” he rumbled in his low, gravely voice. “I thought you had other plans this evening.”

“Well, I did,” lied Segundus, feeling horrid, “but they were cancelled. I hope you don’t mind the company…” he stood in the doorway still, waiting for Childermass to give him some sign that he had forgiven Segundus his aloofness from earlier. 

“Not at all. Please join me,” Childermass said, and there it was, his eye-shine-smile, transforming his face from cool to warm. Segundus breathed a brief sigh of relief. 

“Oh good!” he enthused, stepping over to the table where Childermass was seated, his boots propped up on a chair, a book in his hands. “What are you reading?” he asked, curious. 

“Oh, nothing much. Just some poetry,” Childermass said. 

“Poetry?” Segundus was surprised. He hadn’t ever thought of Childermass as the type to enjoy such things. 

“Yes, I read it from time to time, when I’m in a certain mood,” Childermass replied softly. “But that is neither here nor there,” he continued. “We’d been discussing whether or not the chambermaids could be taught some of those household spells to make their chores go more easily, were we not sir?” Childermass took his feet down from the chair and closed the book of poems before putting it aside. 

“Yes, we were,” Segundus nodded, happy to be traversing more familiar conversational ground once again. “And what did you think of the spells involving the transporting of large bales of hay? They were clearly useful to English farmers over three hundred years ago, could they not be used in the stables? Charles would be delighted to have extra help!”

Before he knew it, they were deeply embroiled in a conversation about spells and their practical applications. Segundus felt the apprehension and confusion from earlier melt away, to be replaced with the warm camaraderie he always felt when Childermass talked about magic with him. 

Their conversation meandered away from the household magic, which had been a topic of interest since Childermass had arrived for his most recent visit, to thoughts on how Starecross Hall might be protected against the influence of troublesome fairy magic from the nearby forest with a refreshing of the wards that guarded its boundaries. Then on to a discussion of whether or not Lady Pole might be willing to come tell them more about her experiences being enchanted by the pernicious fairy who’d held her captive for a book Segundus wanted to write on the subject of fairy abductions. 

Before Segundus realized how late it was, the grandfather clock out in the hallway was chiming one. He stretched and yawned, feeling tired, yet also strangely energized by his conversation with Childermass. The man himself didn’t look particularly sleepy, but Segundus still felt a small pang of guilt for monopolizing his time so thoroughly and for so long. “Mr. Childermass, I should let you get to bed,” he said, rising and tugging his waistcoat back into place in the process. 

Childermass regarded him with eyes that shone like polished onyx in the yellow flicker of the candles that lit the library. “Aye, I’ll head to bed soon. Good night Mr. Segundus,” he said, in his low, rumbly voice. 

Segundus smiled and Childermass eye-smiled back at him. After a moment, Segundus realized that he hadn’t moved yet, and that he should leave the library, and did so with a stiff nod. He could not be caught staring at Childermass like a lovesick puppy! 

He rushed to his room to reassess the advice in  _ Instructions to the Young Gentlewoman _ . He was apparently very bad at seduction indeed, as none of the advice he’d tried so far had worked in the slightest. He resolved though to give it one more try. 

A small part of his mind informed him that when he’d given up on the advice from the book and had simply had a lovely conversation with Childermass, that things had improved immeasurably. 

But another part of his mind countered that he’d had many good conversations with Childermass over the last year or so, and that conversation was not all that he wanted from the man. He wanted to be kissed, and embraced. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings and hear them whispered back. He had oh so many soft and delicate things he wanted with Childermass, and conversation, while wonderful, was far short of what his heart yearned for.


	3. Chapter 3

Segundus opened the book and started to read the next chapter.

_ Perhaps the gentleman you have set your heart on marrying has not responded to the subtler approaches outlined thus far in this book.  _

Segundus nodded along with the author’s assumption. Yes, this was the case with Mr. Childermass. He seemed immune to the book’s advice to this point. 

_ If your gentleman is of the more oblivious sort, it may be necessary to become a little more aggressive in your approach. _

Segundus swallowed nervously. Aggressiveness was not his forte. 

_ Try purchasing or making him a gift. Making him a meal. Offering to mend his clothing. Try giving him a compliment on his looks, or his intelligence. This will let him know that you are skilled at and interested in taking on the sorts of duties one would naturally expect from a wife. Pleasantness, affability, thoughtfulness and a skilled hand in the kitchen. _

Again, Segundus frowned at the lack of  _ wifely duties _ mentioned that involved magic or literature, but he’d already decided to hide this book at the back of the shelf so that none of Starecross’ young female students could find it. It was not that he disagreed with the advice. Only that it was frightfully narrow in its scope, and did not need to apply only to young ladies. This was evidenced by the fact that much of it could be applied by a gentleman of middle years in an attempt to court another gentleman of middle years, even if it was to limited success. He swallowed down his internal criticisms and seriously considered the advice he’d just read.

He was no cook, and so perhaps he could simply make Childermass a cup of tea? The gift part was easier. He’d been thinking of giving gifts to Childermass for months, but such an act had seemed too forward before they’d gotten to know one another so well. Now, that they’d been sharing many warm conversations in the library in the evenings, he felt more confident that a gift would be well received, and might, if he were lucky, convey his true feelings adequately. 

As for compliments, coming up with them was not at all difficult. Upon a few seconds reflection, Segundus could think of many many things he could say to compliment Childermass. He could tell him how good a magician he was. He could tell him that he admired his skills at horseback riding, or that his handwriting was so neat and orderly. He could tell Childermass other things as well, such as how nice his hair smelled, or how his face became more and more handsome the longer one looked upon it. He could tell Childermass that his deep voice was thrilling to the ear and that it caused Segundus’ stomach to turn over in little somersaults whenever the man spoke. But all of those, more intimate compliments were far too forward, and so Segundus discounted them outright. 

Armed with the knowledge that he had a new approach to take, he blew out his candle and curled up under the covers, falling asleep with ease. 

The next morning, he went down to the kitchen earlier than usual and put the kettle on so that he could be prepared to make Childermass a cup of tea. Honeyfoot was a heavy sleeper and in his advanced years, he was sleeping in a little more on cold mornings. Vinculus was much the same, and the students ate in the main hall, not the kitchen, and so Segundus hoped that he and Childermass might be alone for some time this morning. 

He was pleased when shortly after the kettle started to boil, he heard Childermass’ heavy boots on the stairs, and a few moments later he was greeted by the sight of the man himself, his hair still damp from being washed, pulled messily back from his face. “Good morning Mr. Segundus,” Childermass greeted him with that warm, rumbly voice and Segundus felt himself go hot under the collar. 

“Good morning Mr. Childermass!” he piped, hiding what the sight and sound of Childermass did to his insides with a chipper greeting. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, that would be much appreciated, sir,” Childermass responded, settling into a chair at the kitchen table with a slight groan. Apparently his knees were stiff in the mornings as well, Segundus noted with interest. 

He was just pouring the tea when he realized how he’d made a mistake. He had offered Childermass tea, but Childermass would not see it as a gift for any particular reason. It was common to offer one’s guests a refreshment of some sort when they were staying with one, wasn’t it? This cup of tea would not convey the message he’d hoped for. Frowning, he resolved to focus more energy on the other parts of the seduction advice he’d read last night instead. 

Perhaps he could attempt a compliment? He put the steaming teacup in front of Childermass, who nodded and grunted his thanks. Segundus settled in the chair across from him with his own tea. He thought for a moment about how to phrase his compliment and then gave it a go.

“Mr. Childermass,” he began, and the other man’s eyes flicked up to his face. Segundus felt his breath catch in his throat for just a moment, but he shored up his resolve and continued. “It occurs to me that you have very nice handwriting,” he said, feeling himself blushing furiously immediately afterwards.

Childermass looked at him blankly. “Do I now?” he asked, his face unreadable. 

“Yes!” yelped Segundus, “you do. It is very evenly spaced and the letters have about them a very pleasing style. Where did you learn to write?”

Childermass shrugged. “I learned from my mother, though I confess, I have no idea how she learned,” he replied. 

“Oh, well, it is rather nice,” Segundus repeated. The compliment didn’t have the effect he’d hoped for, which of course was that Childermass would smile and then fall effortlessly into Segundus’ arms. Though he realized that perhaps his expectations were more than a touch unrealistic. He decided to try again.

“It also occurs to me that you are an incredibly talented magician sir,” he said. “And I wanted to tell you that I’m ever so grateful that you’ve taken the time and patience to help me improve my own skills at magic.”

Childermass’ eyes went temporarily wider and his brows climbed up his forehead at hearing these new compliments. Then, he frowned a little and his cheeks went over pink and he cleared his throat and looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Twas nothing,” he mumbled. “And you are just as good a magician as I am sir, you simply had less practice. My master, Mr. Norrell... and myself... We made certain that you had the least practice possible. You should be blaming me rather than thanking me.” His voice was rough and low and he did not sound happy.

Drat! Segundus seemed to have made a mess of things again. He tried valiantly to fix the situation. “Oh no sir! I was not trying to imply that you- I only meant that...you have been very helpful, ever since Norrell disappeared. You’ve done a lot to assist me in the running of the school, and for that, I’m very grateful.” He was holding his hands out in a placating manner, hoping to erase whatever gloomy imaginings were currently making Childermass unhappy. 

His efforts seemed to have some small effect, as Childermass’s cheeks stopped being pink, and he sighed in resignation. “There is no need to thank me,” he said, though the embarrassed tone had thankfully left his voice. “It is a pleasure to help you learn about magic and to help with the running of the school. It is a thing I enjoy greatly.” He looked at Segundus then, and his eyes were so soft and so warm that Segundus found he could not speak, only stare back. The moment stretched out between them until Childermass nodded swiftly and took his eyes from Segundus’ face. “It is time to prepare for my next trip,” he said, rising from the breakfast table and grabbing his hat.

“You are leaving?” Segundus asked, barely having regained his voice from the effects of Childermass’ soft look, and only now catching on to the words the man had just spoken to him. 

“Yes. Early tomorrow. We have a trip to Bath planned, to see a gentleman who has studied the translation of many rare and obscure works of literature. We are hoping to have him attempt to translate the Kings Letters.”

“But Bath is a week’s journey from here!” Segundus could not help becoming a little upset at learning that Childermass would be away this long. 

“It is,” Childermass replied, giving him a strange look that was hard for Segundus to translate. “We shall be gone for several weeks.”

“Several weeks,” Segundus repeated the two words as if they were in a language he did not understand. How was he supposed to be without Childermass for several weeks? After they’d spent so much time together, and shared such intimate conversations? How could he bear to be without Childermass for the better part of two months? The time seemed suddenly to stretch out before him, cold and lonely. 

He’d been separated from Childermass before, several times in fact. Only never for this long. Childermass and Vinculus’ trips had, up until now, been made to nearby towns and villages. Within a couple of days ride, and for no more than a fortnight.

“Oh,” Segundus said. “Well, I… I shall miss our conversations.” He looked up at Childermass and tried to smile, even though it felt as if someone had reached a large hand inside his chest in order to squeeze his heart uncomfortably tight.. 

Childermass’ face had gone a little pink again, across his cheeks, and again he was shuffling his feet as he stood by the kitchen table. “I too shall miss our talks,” he said in a gruff voice. He nodded once more, said a stiff “Good day Mr. Segundus,” and went (presumably) to go pack. 

Segundus wondered if his last statement, about missing his talks with Childermass had been too forward. It had certainly seemed to make the other man a little uncomfortable. Segundus feared that he was just no good at the art of seduction, and now, he suspected he might be a clumsy conversationalist as well! 

The sky outside had grown gray and bleak, and a wind had picked up, showing itself in how it tossed the tops of the trees about when Segundus peered through the kitchen windows. It looked like snow. Perhaps, if it snowed, this would keep Childermass from leaving? 

Segundus was in a glum mood. He knew that the way he felt was not suitable for a grown man of his age, that he should simply wish Childermass a pleasant journey and go about his day. And yet, he had grown to enjoy the man’s presence so much over the past few days of his visit, that it felt as if he were twice as in love with him now as he’d ever been. The thought of so many days without his company was daunting. Sighing, Segundus got up and prepared himself for the day's lessons. 

By noon, it had begun to snow. It was a bit early in the season, as it was only November, but the snow did not care for the calendar date, and instead fell steadily in soft, fluffy flakes, coating the grounds outside and Starecross Hall itself in a layer of white. Segundus took pity on the students by the early afternoon and dismissed classes so that they could go and play in the snow, and he and Honeyfoot, Hadley-Bright and Levy spent some time over cups of tea (Hadley-Brights’ with a splash of spirits) chatting in the sitting room around the fire. 

Childermass was nowhere to be seen all day. Vinculus however was about, prowling the kitchens, being shooed at by the cook’s broom, and generally making a nuisance of himself. Segundus’ eyes kept jumping to the stairs, and the doorways at every noise, hoping to see Childermass’ boots descending, to see the man’s ragged hair and sly, dark eyes in the doorframe.

Though the man stayed scarce most of that day, Childermass did come down for supper, and sat next to Segundus, which was rather nice. But at this point, Segundus was so torn up inside over his friend leaving on this extra long journey, that he wasn’t very good conversation. They chatted just a little bit about how much the students had enjoyed the snow, and Segundus asked if Childermass were still leaving. 

“It depends,” he replied, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. An action that Segundus followed a little too closely with his eyes, before reminding himself to look away. “If it ceases snowing by the early morning hours, and there is not much accumulation, we will leave tomorrow morning. If it snows more heavily, then travel will be too dangerous, and we shall wait a day or two.” 

Segundus nodded. “Will you be free to talk this evening as usual?” he asked, emboldened by the knowledge that this might be their last night together for a while.

“I shall indeed,” replied Childermass with one of his eye-shine smiles. Segundus felt himself blush in response and looked down at his plate, pushing a bit of carrot around with his fork in an attempt to hide how very pleased he was. 

That evening, they had a lovely discussion about all manner of topics, magical and personal. Childermass told Segundus a little of his time in service to Mr. Norrell, and Segundus told Childermass of some of his adventures in caring for Lady Pole. 

“If you don’t mind me saying so sir,” Segundus said, “Mr. Norrell sounded like he was a frightfully strict master who perhaps did not appreciate the faithful servant and companion he had in you.” It was a presumptuous thing to say, but Segundus was feeling extra forward this evening. 

Childermass was silent for a moment, and Segundus was afraid he had said too much, but then, he did speak up, his voice thoughtful. “You are right sir. Mr. Norrell was at times quite cantankerous and did take my service for granted now and then. But he was also a dear friend, and he did me many a good turn in our time together. I miss him still.”

Segundus nodded gravely. “I miss Mr. Strange in a similar way,” he replied. “Though we had far fewer interactions than yourself and Mr. Norrell, he was the only magician that I ever truly knew or had any contact with, and he was quite a fascinating person.”

“Well, now you know another magician, other than Strange or Norrell don’t you?” Childermass asked, and for a moment, Segundus did not understand him, until he realized that Childermass was referring to himself. 

Segundus chuckled. “Oh yes! And so do you! And let us not forget Honeyfoot, and Hadley-Bright and Mr. Levy as well.” he added. “It is good that now there are so many more magicians, don’t you think?” he asked, and Childermass nodded in agreement. 

“What will you do if Vinculus’ book is translated and it’s mysteries uncovered at last?” Asked Segundus. It was a thing he had always been quite curious about, but hadn’t felt as if he knew Childermass well enough to ask until now.

Childermass looked down at his hands, large, ink stained and beautiful, where they rested on the wood of the library table between them, and seemed to grow a little bashful. “I was hoping Mr. Segundus sir, that I might come to Starecross Hall… to stay here and call it my home.” 

Segundus felt his heart swell warmly and his insides flutter. “Oh Mr. Childermass, that would be delightful!” He exclaimed, unable to hide the pure joy in his voice. “Why I… I mean rather,  _ we _ , Mr. Honeyfoot and myself would be ever so glad to have you among our permanent staff.” 

“Good,” Childermass replied, still looking down, his thick, dark lashes brushing the tops of his high cheekbones. Why had Segundus not noticed how thick his lashes were before now? “It makes me happy to hear that.” 

He looked up then, and their eyes caught, and Segundus almost said the words, almost spit them out right then and there. He almost said ‘ _ I love you’ ‘I adore you’ ‘I long to hold you in my arms’. _ But after a few heart pounding moments of looking deep into Childermass’ beautiful, dark eyes, he lost his courage, and looked away, his cheeks heating and his breath coming faster. How could he say such a thing? To another man? And one who trusted him and counted on his hospitality so much? The whole reason he was reading up on seduction techniques was so that he could entice Childermass into taking the first step. So that Segundus did not push him or make him feel uncomfortable in Starecross Hall, a place he had just admitted he thought of as a true home. 

“I believe it is time that I retired for the evening,” Segundus said, knowing his voice sounded weak and tremulous, but not being able to stop it. “And I am sure you will want to rest, being that you have a long trip ahead of you on the morrow.” 

Childermass grunted his agreement and together they left the library and parted to go to their bedrooms. They said their goodnights politely, and Segundus fought hard not to look back at Childermass as Segundus walked to his bedroom. 

Segundus, as was his habit during the last few nights, turned to the pages of  _ Instructions to the Young Gentlewoman On Matters Of Importance _ in a last ditch effort to see if there was something he could do upon Childermass’ return to make one final attempt at seduction. He told himself, this would be his last attempt. If his blushing and lifting of heavy things and compliments and soft looks had not worked, then he was certain that this last thing he’d try wouldn’t have any affect either, but he resolved himself to give it one more go. 

_ If all else fails, and your young gentleman has not responded to previous attempts to lure him with your charms, then, it is permissible to try something a touch more forward.  _

Mr. Segundus blinked. It almost seemed as if the author of the book were knowledgeable about Segundus’ particular situation. Her sensible words calmed his fluttering heart and he read further. 

_ If one has had no response to prior attempts to entice said gentleman, it is allowable to write him a little love note and leave it somewhere you know he will find it. I would not under normal circumstances suggest a thing so bold, but if it is worded respectfully, and is just clear enough to impart your feelings, yet not so explicit as to expose you to ridicule should he be of the more capricious and uncaring sort, then it is alright to do this just once.  _

_ You are too shy to be that explicit you say? Very well. Simply leave him some token of affection. A pressed flower. A handmade gift of some sort, that will show him you care without words in the most explicit manner you can manage. He will find it and hopefully extrapolate from it that you adore him and wish to be courted by him.  _

Oh my! Segundus was not sure that he could do such a daring thing. But, if he did not, Childermass might never know how he felt, and might never respond. Perhaps he loved Segundus back but was stuck believing that Segundus did not care for him? Perhaps he was only waiting for a very clear sign that Segundus was enamoured with him? 

Either way, Segundus, seeing by candlelight that the snow was falling only lightly outside, realized that he’d best act fast. He did have a pressed flower or two he’d been saving in the pages of a book of poetry he had on his shelf, and if he were to fold them up into a piece of paper, along with well wishes for Childermass safe journey, well, such a thing could hardly be taken as anything else than a romantic overture… could it not?

He decided to put it in Brewer’s saddle bag, which would have the added benefit of keeping Childermass from discovering it immediately, and allowing him to make what he would of the note without Segundus being there to see it. 

He took the pressed flowers, a violet and a daisy, and, after no small amount of consideration, wrote a short note on a piece of paper. 

_ I wish you a safe journey and a speedy return. Know that my affections go with you. Your devoted friend, John Segundus. _

He folded the flowers up in the paper, and donning his jacket, he went out into the snow to deliver the message. 


	4. Chapter 4

The stables were dark and very chilly. The horses, covered in blankets, their breath misting the air, stamped and made wuffling noises when Segundus entered. He made his way quickly to where Brewer was kept, and then paused at the door. Brewer was an imposing horse. A tall, dark presence in the shadowy interior of the stall. He was somber and mysterious, much like his master. Segundus had never really approached him before, and hoped that he was not a biter. 

Brewer turned his head to regard Segundus placidly, munching on a mouthful of oats, and Segundus summoned up his courage and drew closer. He fiddled a bit in getting Childermass’ saddle bag open, wondering how far into the bag to push the note. He did not want to disturb the contents of the saddle bag, nor for the note to get crushed, but he did not want it to blow away in the breeze the minute Childermass opened the saddle bag either. 

He had just made the decision to place it on the very top of the existing objects in the bag, when his foot slipped on the icy cobbles and he fell. He let out a small gasp of surprise, the note escaping from the grip of his fingers, and then his hip hit the hard stones, followed by his shoulder, then the back of his head. He saw stars and the world went dark. 

The first thing he heard was Brewer, neighing, high and shrill, and then what felt like a short time later, Childermass’ voice, urgently calling his name. But he was frightfully warm and very comfortable and very very sleepy and could not seem to keep his eyes open, or respond. He felt hands upon him, pulling at him to get up, but he couldn’t move. He heard Honeyfoot’s voice and Levy’s voice, full of concern, talking above him, but his eyes refused to open. 

He must have slept then, because the next time he came to consciousness, he was in his own bed (he knew this by the familiar smell of the sheets). He kept his eyes screwed shut but could tell that he was under the covers, clothed in a nightdress and stockings. Also, he was shivering. Colder than he ever remembered feeling, even though he could hear a fire crackling in the hearth nearby, and there was more than the usual weight of blankets on top of him. There was a dull, throbbing ache at the back of his head. He lay, curled on his side, trembling from the cold, his teeth chattering with it. Someone tucked the covers more tightly around him and gentle fingers brushed his hair from his face. 

“Childermass,” he mumbled. “Must get my note to Childermass before he leaves,”

“Shhhh,” said a deep, reassuring voice. “He received the message. Not to worry.” and then darkness snuck up and pulled him under yet again. 

The next time he woke, he was no longer shivering but burning up! He was covered with sweat and had flung the covers off of himself in his sleep. He heard snatches of unusual music, and Honeyfoot’s voice saying something, or was it Jonathan Strange who spoke? He fell asleep and dreamt that he was on the Kings Roads. He dreamt that Starecross was a madhouse again and that he was sitting, chatting with Lady Pole. He dreamt that he was on the steps of York Minster in the snow, with Childermass quizzical yes on him.  _ I love you! Can’t you see that? _ He cried out to Childermass, who only smiled his small, mysterious smile and did not reply. He dreamt that Childermass was in the bed with him, and those dreams were rather nice, even if rose petals fell from Childermass’ mouth whenever he opened it to cry out or to speak. 

At some point, he woke and asked for water, but his voice was so weak and rasping that he had to ask several times before someone brought him a cup. He opened his eyes and saw a shadowy figure bending over him and felt his head lifted in the palm of a strong, broad hand as the mysterious person bade him drink from the cup of refreshing, cool water. He drank gratefully, before falling back against the pillows, and then he was shivering again. 

“Mr. Childermass,” He murmured. “Please don’t go. I need to tell you something,” 

The gentle hand was back, brushing his sweat damp hair away from his brow and pulling the covers back up around him, and he fell again into darkness. 

The next time he woke, he was pleased to feel that he was neither shivering cold, nor burning hot, though he felt quite weak, and there was still a dull ache knocking about at the back of his head. He stirred and moaned, then opened his eyes, blinking in the candlelight. It was nighttime, and the golden glow of the candle by his bed revealed that someone was sitting in a chair nearby. Someone with a book open on his lap. 

“I am glad to see you are awake,” the low rumble of the man’s voice identified him as Childermass. “How do you feel sir?” he asked, and his voice was very soft. An unusual sound from a man so gruff. 

“Mr. Childermass?” Segundus struggled to sit up, but failed in the task immediately and lay back down with a small huff.

“You are very weak,” Childermass said, somewhat unnecessarily. “You have been in and out of consciousness for three days now and have not eaten.”

“Three days?” Segundus’ voice was ragged and his throat was terribly dry. “Might I have some water?” he asked, squinting at the dark shape of Childermass in the chair by his bed. 

Childermass rose quickly and stepped out of the circle of candlelight, returning only a moment later with a cup, which he handed to Segundus. Segundus took it gratefully and gulped some of it down, feeling relief as the cold liquid sluiced it’s way down his dry and stinging throat. “Was I...ill?” he asked, once he had drained the cup and handed it back.

“Yes. You went out to the stables and slipped on the ice beneath the snow. You hit your head, quite hard,” Childermass explained. His voice sounded strange. Thick and deeper than usual. “You were out there, unsensible for some time before Brewer succeeded in alerting me and the others to your situation.” 

“Oh my,” said Segundus. “I have been rather foolish I suppose.” 

“You could have died,” Childermass said, “had not Brewer made such a fuss, we may not have found you until the next morning.” His voice was thick indeed. He sounded quite upset. 

“I am sorry,” Segundus said. “I didn’t mean to worry everyone. I hope Mr. Honeyfoot will forgive me.” 

“Honeyfoot? Yes surely. I am not so certain that _ I  _ will forgive you though,” the man replied, his warm, soft tone belying the words he spoke. 

Segundus was not sure what to make of that statement, for he was a little dizzy still, so he changed the subject. “Was I delirious? I heard and saw things that made no sense.” 

“That you were,” Childermass said. “You were spouting nonsense off and on.”

Segundus felt himself grow warm from embarrassment, rather than fever. “Oh dear oh dear, I must have made an utter fool of myself,” he said, wishing he could hide his head under the covers. 

“It is alright,” Chilermass said. “I was the only one who heard most of your ramblings, and I shall not repeat them to anyone.” 

“That is a blessing,” Segundus said with a sigh, settling back into the pillows. “I feel as if I have run for days, though I never left this bed.”

“You should go back to sleep Mr. Segundus sir,” Childermass’ voice was quiet and low. It occurred to Segundus that perhaps Childermass was tired. 

“Have you been to see me often?” He asked. “I’d hate to have delayed your trip or pulled you away from your duties.”

Childermass looked for a moment as if he were thinking of which words to say next, cautious and pensive. Then he spoke. “I have not left this room for three days, except to care for Brewer and once, to stop the cook from going after Vinculus with a soup ladle.” 

“You...you have not?” Segundus was perplexed. “Did you not sleep sir?”

“Aye,” Childermass replied. “In this chair,”

“But, why?” Segundus was feeling regretful and confused. Why had Childermass stayed by his side? Rather than seeing to his own well being. 

“Partly because you asked me to,” Childermass said. “Because when I tried to leave, you clung to me and begged me to stay. But mostly...” He paused for a moment, examining the dirt and ink under his nails and letting out a deep sigh. “Mostly because I feared you would die and I refused to let you out of my sight until I was certain you would not.” He finished. 

Segundus did not know how to respond. He was ever so weak and tired. His head still hurt and his thoughts were hazy around the edges. “I think you have just told me something important,” he said, “but I am all muddled and cannot tell what it is.”

“It is alright,” Childermass repeated. He stood then and came over to the bed, where he took one of Segundus’ pale, slender hands in both of his dark, stained ones and looked down at it as if it were a wounded bird. “You are alright now sir. Now I shall go and get some sleep in my own room. I will be back tomorrow to check on you.” And with that, he held Segundus’ hand against his rough, stubble covered cheek for a moment before releasing him, turning and leaving without another word. 

Segundus was far too exhausted to wonder at this behavior for long. He soon drifted off into another deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning he was given three bowls of hot broth and a bowl of porridge to eat, and he used the bedpan, for he did not have the strength to make it to the outhouse. He was able to totter out of bed, with Mr. Honeyfoot’s arm to lean on, and to have Honeyfoot assist him in bathing and getting into his normal clothes, and Sally the maid changed his sheets, which were ruined from all the sweating he’d done. 

True to his word, Childermass returned to see him in the early afternoon. Segundus was back in bed, but on top of the covers this time, with a warm blanket thrown over his legs, propped up against the pillows. Segundus was very glad he was clean and well fed and fully dressed when Childermass returned. He did not like it that Childermass had felt obliged to spend so much time caring for him, nor that Segundus had been babbling nonsense and throwing his bedclothes about. And most of all, he did not like that one small misstep on the icy ground inside the stables had caused all this trouble for Starecross Hall. That _ he _ had caused all this trouble. 

Childermass did not mention any of this during his visit. He merely stood by the bed with his hat in his hand and asked how Segundus was doing. 

“Oh, I am well enough now, thanks largely to yourself and Mr. Honeyfoot no doubt,” Segundus replied. He looked down at his blanket covered lap and felt his cheeks going hot. “I am sorry Mr. Childermass,” he said. “I did not mean to inconvenience everyone.”

“It was no great inconvenience sir,” Childermass responded. “It was far more troublesome to nurse Mr. Norrell through a simple cold than it was to keep watch and make sure you did not die in your sleep.”

“Was I truly in such a bad way?” Mr. Segundus asked, curious. 

“Yes,” Childermass replied simply, looking at his feet. “Yes you were.”

“Oh,” Segundus replied. Then, all of a sudden, the reason for his going out to the stables in the middle of the night came back to him, and he felt shame and fear rise up in him in an awful rush. “Mr. Childermass,” he whispered. “I went out to the stables to send you off with a note. Did you find it?”

“I did,” Childermass replied softly. “It is safe in the pocket of my coat.”

Segundus nodded, his cheeks still burning. “I am certain that the contents of the note must have been confusing to you,” he said, attempting haltingly to explain it away and hopefully save himself from complete embarrassment. “And I assure you sir, I did not mean any disrespect. I feel that while the note was somewhat explanatory, that I perhaps did not fully express-”

“You have expressed plenty,” Childermass said, and Segundus looked up at him to see a small, soft smile on his face. “I said that you were spouting nonsense. I did not tell you that the majority of what you said was of a rather… affectionate nature.”

The meaning of his words dawned on Segundus with painful swiftness, and he groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Oh no no no no no, Mr. Childermass. I cannot apologize enough for whatever I might have said. I was feverish and confused, and I never would have imposed upon you in that manner if I had had my wits about me!” 

“That is a shame then,” Childermass responded, but in Segundus’ panicked state, he did not really hear him. 

“I must apologize sir,” Segundus continued, still hiding his face with his hands, feeling on the verge of tears. “I must apologize for making you uncomfortable and for my thoughtless words, and for being such a bother to everyone.” 

He felt the bed depress slightly and felt gentle fingers wrap around his wrists and pull his hands from his face, and he dared to open his eyes. 

Childermass was sitting beside him on the bed, very close, and facing him. He took Segundus’ hands in both of his own and held them as he looked steadily at Segundus with eyes that were very soft and caring. Segundus took a shaky breath and fell silent, struck by the look on Childermass’ face. 

“I wish you a safe journey and a speedy return. Know that my affections go with you. Your devoted friend, John Segundus,” Childermass said. He was reciting Segundus’ note back to him. “I read your note many times,” Childermass added, looking down at where their hands were joined. “I committed the shape and slope of the letters to heart,” he said. 

“Oh,” said Segundus, unable at that moment to say much else. His heart was beating like a drum and he felt hot from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“I hadn’t dared to hope,” Childermass said, still looking down at Segundus’ hands, stroking the backs of them with his calloused thumbs. The touch, so gentle and soft, was distracting, so that Segundus had to force himself to focus more on the words Childermass spoke. “I would like to know,” Childermass continued, “If your note can be taken as more than the fond wishes of a dear friend.” He swallowed, looking uncertain, which was rare in a man so solid and stoic. “I want to know, if the words you said when you were ill were from delirium alone… or… or from something more.” 

“Well,” Segundus began, his throat suddenly frightfully dry and his heart continuing to pound away in his ears, “I am uncertain what I said when I was feverish. Might you remind me sir?” 

Childermass glanced up at him then, and Segundus was struck by the look in his dark eyes. “You begged me not to go to Bath,” he said. “You told me that you would miss me too much if I left. You told me that... that you loved and adored me.” Here his cheeks colored, and his eyes grew like coals on a fireplace, “you told me of the things that you wished we could do together, were we to be alone,” he said. 

“Did I?” Segundus breathed, thinking he might possibly catch fire and burn up to a cinder with how hot his cheeks and chest had become. 

“Did you mean it sir?” Childermass asked, and a new look had bloomed on his face. Hope, but also, a touch of fear. It was a thing Segundus had never seen before. This hopeful apprehension. 

“I did,” Segundus breathed. “I meant every word.”

Childermass smiled. Not an eye-shine-smile, but a mouth-smile, broad and sunny, and Segundus could not help but smile back at him, and laugh a little in relief. But then, a dark cloud scuttled over the surface of his burgeoning happiness. “Mr. Childermass, sir, you have not told me of your own feelings,” he said, suddenly afraid that this was all just some horrid joke being played on him. “Do you care for me as well? Do you...do you share my feelings sir? For if you do not, you would be best to tell me immediately. I do not think I could-”

He got no further, for Childermass had leaned in swiftly and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, just a gentle press, but it silenced him completely. He let out a small noise of surprise at the feel of Childermass’ lips against his own and his eyes fluttered closed. 

Childermass pulled back quickly. There were footsteps coming up the stairs, and so he stood from the bed and stepped swiftly away. “Yes, Mr. Segundus, yes,” he said, in a hushed tone as the footsteps drew nearer. “I return every one of your feelings.”

The door swung open and Segundus turned his eyes, which were now welling up with tears to see Mr. Honeyfoot’s smiling face in the doorway. “Mr. Segundus! Oh it is such a good thing to see you up and well!” He came into the room, carrying a tray with a covered plate and a steaming cup of what smelled like coffee. Thankfully, he seemed entirely unaware of the tension in the room between his two gentlemen friends. “I’ve brought you some lunch sir,” he explained as he came over to the bed to place the tray across Segundus’ lap. “Why Mr. Segundus! You are crying! Are you in pain sir? Is there something I can fetch you?”

Over Honeyfoot’s shoulder, through the blur of his tears, Segundus could see Childermass sidling toward the door. He wanted to call out to him to stay, but dared not draw attention to the other man, who, just moments ago had been kissing him. “Oh, it is nothing Mr. Honeyfoot,” he explained, waiving away his friend's concern with casual motion of his hand. “I am just a little bit overwhelmed and very tired.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix you up good as new then,” Honeyfoot, always a bit of a mother hen, was pulling the blanket back in place across Segundus’ legs where it had been rumpled by Childermass sitting on the bed. “Here is a lovely plate of beef and potatoes from the cook and a bracing cup of Mr. Levy’s coffee. We shall have you right as rain in no time.” 

Segundus expressed his thanks and told Honeyfoot that he preferred to eat alone, being as he was so very tired. Honeyfoot nodded and turned to leave, but when Segundus could finally see past him, Childermass was gone. 


	6. Chapter 6

He did not see Childermass again for the rest of the day. That evening, he slept a real and true sleep, rather than black unconsciousness or delirious tossing and turning, and woke refreshed early the next morning. He felt much stronger and so he did his morning toilet and dressed himself and headed downstairs for breakfast. He hoped very much to see Childermass. 

Unfortunately, he was told by Mr. Honeyfoot that Childermass and Vinculus had left on their trip to Bath early that morning. Segundus tried very hard to hide the bitter stab of disappointment he felt at not being able to tell Childermass goodbye. Though, he supposed, upon a moment’s reflection, that his note from before his slip on the ice did an adequate job of that. As had all of his romantic ramblings during his fever. Still, the weeks without Childermass’ company stretched long and cold in his imagination, and he was glum. Honeyfoot remarked that it seemed he could do with some more rest, mistaking Segundus’ mood for exhaustion, and Segundus was obliged to put a smile on his face to keep his friend from trying to push him back to bed. 

Partway through the day, he was approached by Sally, who pressed a sealed envelope into his hands. “A note from Mr. Childermass,” she said with a curtsey as she went off to see to the preparation of the midday meal. Segundus’s heart began to race as rushed up to his room to read the note in private. He pried open the seal and unfolded the paper with trembling fingers. 

Mr. Segundus,

I have many things I wish to speak with you about upon my return. If this is amenable to you, please mention to me that you have a book you would like to discuss with me after dinner, and I shall visit you in your rooms when the household is asleep. 

Until then

Your friend

John Childermass

Poetry it was not, but the meaning was quite clear. Childermass wanted to visit him in his rooms upon the night of his return. And he clearly wanted to express this in a way that was the least damning should the note be read by someone who was not Mr. Segundus. Segundus felt his heartbeat speed up and his palms go damp. He swiftly put the letter into the pages of a book by his bedside and went downstairs to start his day with a spring in his step.

The following weeks were a delicious sort of torture. Mr. Segundus could not seem to keep his thoughts away from imaginings of what Mr. Childermass meant when he’d written I have many things I wish to speak to you about upon my return. He was fairly certain it was not just words that Childermass wanted to share with him, but perhaps it was? Perhaps he had rethought his feelings and wanted to reject Segundus? This seemed unlikely, but since the short note had been worded so curtly, and since Childermass had only stated his feelings once, in a hurried fashion, while Mr. Segundus had apparently babbled about his own feelings repeatedly in the throes of his feverish delirium, he felt a little worried. 

In the meantime, he taught his classes and spoke to Honeyfoot and the other instructors about lesson plans, and ate meals in the dining hall. He sometimes read in the library in the evenings, but after a week or so, it made him miss Childermass too much and he retired to his room instead. 

He thought very often of Childermass, and his soft eyes, and the gentle kiss they’d shared, and how Childermass had finally told him that his feelings were returned. Segundus thought about these things so frequently in fact that oftentimes, as he lay in bed at night, he found himself inflamed with want in ways that lead him to seek satisfaction in self stimulation. This was a practice he did engage in now and then, when the mood struck him. During the weeks that Childermass and Vinculus were gone to Bath however, the mood was striking him quite often indeed. Nightly in fact. 

The weeks wore on, and Segundus thought he might expire with all the yearning in his heart to see Childermass again. He stayed steadfastly committed to his duties as headmaster, and hid his pining from the eyes of his colleagues and the students, but he longed for Childermass to return, and that longing only grew sharper with every passing day. 

By the time he heard Charles remark that he could see Childermass and Vinculus approaching over the packhorse bridge, he was quite aflutter with nervous expectation and his heart leapt inside his chest and started to hammer at a racehorse’s pace. 

Childermass strode in, cold clinging to his great black coat, Vinculus in toe and Segundus found he could not look directly at him, for to do so might betray the passions that lay hidden inside his heart. Instead, he stood by the kitchen table, looking down at his hands and blushing furiously as Childermass greeted the other instructors, and the few students with whom he had a very friendly association. There were many questions about his trip, and he gratefully accepted a cup of tea from the cook and sat to talk. Vinculus complained that no one had offered him anything to drink, and was immediately rewarded with a bottle of beer, which shut him up quite effectively.

It was close to midday and so everyone stopped to take their lunch in the dining hall. Segundus sat opposite Childermass, trying very hard not to stare at Childermass’ wild dark hair and sparkling dark eyes that he had been longing to see for so many weeks. He had not even gotten up the nerve to address the man yet, and kept his own mouth full of food so as to not seem as if he were avoiding it. 

Eventually though, there came a moment when Childermass stopped speaking to Levy, and before anyone else could grab his attention, when his eyes found and met Segundus’ and held there. 

“I have a book I have been hoping to discuss with you Mr. Childermass,” Segundus blurted out quite hurriedly, and then he blushed. 

“Is that so?” Childermass replied, a small, mischievous smile playing about his lips. “I would very much like to see it.”

“And I, I would very much like to show it to you,” stammered Segundus. 

“Oh yes,” cut in Mr. Honeyfoot who had overheard them. “Mr. Segundus has missed your talks about magic in the library, have you not Mr. Segundus?”

“Yes,” Segundus replied, a touch breathlessly. “I have.” 

Childermass’ cheeks went a little pink pink and he nodded. “Well, we’ll have to find some time to talk then,” he said. “About magic,” he added. 

And now Segundus had a conundrum on his hands. For he had no real wish to spend any time with Childermass in the library. The library, which was far too public a place, with far too great a chance that they would be discovered were they to engage in the sorts of things Segundus wished to do in that moment. Kisses and embraces and soft words. He wanted Childermass alone with him, behind a locked door, in the privacy of his room. 

That night at dinner, he thought of a clever way to make help bring this about. “I am feeling a bit tired this evening,” he announced to Honeyfoot, Childermass, Hadley-Bright and Levy as they sat and chatted in the sitting room after supper. “I believe I will retire early.” And with that, he bid them good evening and went upstairs, thus eliminating the possibility that anyone would expect himself and Childermass to spend any time in the library together. 

He knew not to expect Childermass until much later, and yet he could not calm his nerves. Instead, he tried (and failed) to read, then paced about his room for a while, his thoughts full of Childermass’ face. Eventually, as he could hear the rest of the household making their way to their rooms and to their beds, he took his clothing off and changed into his nightdress. 

A little after ten in the evening, according to the muffled bonging noise of the grandfather clock out in the hallway, he heard a soft knock at the door, and jumped nervously. He rushed to pull open the door and at last, saw Childermass, also in his shirtsleeves and breeches, standing on the other side. 

Childermass swiftly came inside and Segundus shut and locked the door behind him. He turned then, and suddenly, felt bashful. There was Childermass, half dressed and in bare feet, his hair, dark and ragged as usual, but now loose and falling about his shoulders. His eyes upon Segundus’ face were intent, but cautious as well. They’d waited weeks for this moment, but now both men stood and regarded each other, unmoving. 

“I am glad you are back,” Segundus said, because he meant it more than Childermass could possibly imagine, and that seemed to break the tension. Childermass stepped closer to him, very close indeed, and looked down into his eyes.

“I am glad to be here,” he responded, his voice that low rumble. Segundus’ breath hitched as Childermass’ strong, warm hands found their way to his waist. “I have thought of little else, other than this moment the entire time I was away,” he added, his eyes oh so dark, searching Segundus’ face. 

“Mr. Childermass,” Segundus began, feeling his knees going weak at the look in Childermass’ eyes. 

“Please call me John,” Childermass said. 

“John,” Segundus said, feeling an intimate thrill through the center of his belly. “John, I would very much like you to kiss me.” He did not have long to worry if he were being too forward, because almost before he had finished speaking his request, Childermass’ arms were around his waist and the other man’s mouth was pressed against his own. Segundus sighed with relief and melted into Childermass’ embrace. 

Childermass’ lips were soft against his, his body, warm and solid through the thin material of his shirt. He smelled oh so nice. Like pipe smoke and ale, and a little like a stable, but also, there was a warm, herbal smell of the moors and the wind beneath all that. Childermass made a soft noise and wrapped Segundus up more tightly in his arms and Segundus thought perhaps he might die and go straight up to heaven with how good it felt to be held and kissed this way. Segundus wound his fingers into Childermass’ surprisingly soft hair and Childermass pulled Segundus closer with hands pressed to the small of his back, and they kissed and kissed. 

Eventually, Childermass pulled back and held Segundus’ face in his hands. “I am sorry I did not come forward sooner… to tell you of my feelings,” he said. “I did not know that you could ever return them.”

“It is alright. I tried telling you without coming out and saying it, and that did not work very well,” Segundus frowned.

“Did you perchance come across such ideas in a very silly book, written for young ladies in need of a husband?” Childermass asked, and Segundus felt himself flush with embarrassment. 

“Yes,” he murmured, “However did you know?” 

“You kept it by your bedside. When I was sitting and watching over you, I spied it and decided to give it a look. Some of the advice sounded very familiar,” He smiled warmly and Segundus looked down and away from his knowing eyes. 

“I’ve been quite foolish,” he said, trying to twist a little out of Childermass’ embrace, to hide from him.

“Shhh, do not be embarrassed,” Childermass lifted his face with a warm hand under his chin so that he had to look into Childermass’ eyes again. “You did it all to catch my interest. It is only unfortunate that you had already won my affections a long time ago, and so your efforts were utterly wasted on me.”

“I asked Vinculus if you planned on settling down and taking a wife,” Segundus said, with a small smile, feeling mollified and as if he could now confess all of his secret dealings, now that he was in Childermass’ warm embrace. 

“And what did he tell you?” Childermass asked. 

“He told me that you fancied soft, pretty boys. And I know that I am not very young anymore, nor all that soft, and that my hair is going gray and that I have never been very pretty but-”

“John, please,” Childermass silenced him with a small kiss. “I only ever looked at those men because they reminded me of you.” 

“Truly?” Segundus asked him. “You liked me that much?”

“I...how shall I put this,” Childermass looked up to the ceiling as if for help from some higher power. “John Segundus,” he said earnestly, clasping Segundus’ face gently in both of his hands and looking deeply into his eyes. “I love you. I adore you. And I have done so for longer than I care to admit in this moment. Please be assured of the strength and endurance of my deep affections for you. I have suffered under them for quite a long time and do not wish to suffer any longer.” 

“Oh my,” Segundus said, and then he could not help but kiss Childermass again, very ardently indeed. They parted a few moments later, both breathless. 

“May I take you to your bed?” Childermass asked, low and soft and with a heat in his eyes that made Segundus’ belly feel warm and tight. Segundus nodded eagerly and together they climbed into bed and wrapped around each other under the covers.

Childermass was very gentle, and very patient. Segundus made it quite clear that he’d never lain with anyone before, and so Childermass took his time with many soft kisses and touches and many whispered endearments, until Segundus was taken apart quite completely. Childermass held him and kissed his forehead and murmured “There’s my darling lad,” as Segundus shuddered his way through his pleasure. 

Childermass patiently instructed Segundus on doing the same to him, and Segundus was thrilled and awed to watch as Childermass virtually fell apart under his clumsy touch and eager mouth. He had never dreamed that he would be able to make Childermass tremble and cry out and say his name in that rough, desperate way. It made him feel powerful and joyous. 

They lay together afterwards, Segundus feeling both stunned and elated at the same time. He and Childermass had their limbs intertwined and their hands in each other’s hair, and they gazed drunkenly into each other’s eyes and kissed lazily whenever the mood struck either one of them. Which was quite often. 

“To think,” Segundus mused, tracing the edge of Childermass’ stubbled jaw with his fingertip. “We could have been together far sooner if only I’d been more courageous.”

“No, no, you were being rightfully cautious, and so was I,” Childermass kissed Segundus on the forehead, then on the tip of his nose for good measure. “We must still be careful John. Outside of this room, we must act as nothing more than dear friends.”

“I understand,” Segundus said, nuzzling his face into the front of Childermass’ neck and breathing in a lungful of his spicy warm smell. “And I shall hide that silly book at the back of a rarely used shelf in the library so that no young women find it and think it good advice,” he added. 

“That, I can agree with. But, it did serve one useful purpose,” Childermass said, his voice a low vibration against Segundus’s face where it was pressed to the juncture of his throat and chest. “It brought us together, did it not?”

“It did,” Segundus smiled against Childermass’ skin. “In that respect, it was quite useful.” 

“I could have done without you hitting your head and almost expiring from illness,” Childermass added. 

“As could I,” Segundus replied. And then his hands began to roam over Childermass’ back and waist in something of a suggestive manner, and Childermass was pulling him close and pulling his face up for a kiss, and he forgot all about silly advice for young gentlewomen and kissed his love again and again. The moon rose, and the night birds sang in the grounds surrounding Starecross Hall, and in their little circle of candle light, filled with love, John Childermass and John Segundus kissed.


End file.
